Bending The Bering Straight

WOW, this maybe the best thing I've ever written. I'm super proud of this, so let me know what you think.

I know I owe a lot of you. I will force myself to get to everyone that I owe, I swear, and full critting this means you are guaranteed a crit in return in the next day.

Bending The Bering Straight

On a body of water, underneatha bridge between her and me.Blushing breath into a startlingbreeze. Forgetting everything wesaid, I never let her tits getto my head. Dripping candles likewet bedroom fucks, we couldn't getover the dream of it all. Her feet over mineon top of mud,in design she was the bitter to my lemonade. To hotto calculate, to simple to appreciatethe grass beside the stomp,a cough below her breast.We held handles, barred fromthe bond, the black to my bleach.I like how she spoke. It reminded meof June.

Then I watched her disappear,for the sterile gauze that sheslept with never kept her safe,the leaf she wore in her sleevecouldn't keep her closer to the trees.And she touched herself behind somedumpsters for a boy. I heard from a friend,through sick and thin, shewore herself too thick with the smellof old clothing. The taste of her laugh,the sight of her face, was quick tomake a rotten apple. Feet beneaththe water, alone with no one else.She was an asshole. I can't flower myfingers with the thought of somethingpretty, it's only my knuckles that canmake myself pity. So I drowned in theviciousness only such wolves wouldknow just to bend the Bering straight.

This fuckng mouth, it denigrates herface. The lisp on her ceiling fan, spinsfaster to slur all the air around us,Her body covered with nettles, Undressing,cursing,committing mine intothe sting of every wincing pore, and weslept outside ourselves in the gore ofconception.

The middle stanza was one of my favourites from you, defintiely. The wordplay and tongue in cheek bits of rhyming were cool, really made it. Awesome.

I think I preferred it to the other two stanzas because you were slightly less subtle with the innuendos. To be perfectly honest I haven't been a huge fan of you when you're using "****ing" alot, which I've noticed quite abit lately in your stuff, but maybe that's just me. It's seemed to blunt sometimes, I'd possibly go to the extent that it detracts slghtly (you know I'm not one of those guys that goes swearing doesn't belong in poetry etc), just your better in subtleties and imagery than vulgar stuff.

WOW, this maybe the best thing I've ever written. I'm super proud of this, so let me know what you think.

I know I owe a lot of you. I will force myself to get to everyone that I owe, I swear, and full critting this means you are guaranteed a crit in return in the next day.

Bending The Bering Straight

On a body of water, underneatha bridge between her and me.Niiice. Well played with the title.Blushing breath into a startlingbreeze. Forgetting everything wesaid, I never let her tits getto my head. Dripping candles likewet bedroom fucks, we couldn't getover the dream of it all. Well stated. Generally with imagery like that, it's bland and straightforward. Her feet over mineon top of mud,in design she was the bitter to my lemonade. To hotto calculate, to simple to appreciate"Too," not "to" in some places.the grass beside the stomp,a cough below her breast.We held handles, barred fromthe bond, the black to my bleach.I like how she spoke. It reminded meof June.If you added some "June" imagery, it'd clear this up a little better.

Then I watched her disappear,for the sterile gauze that sheslept with never kept her safe,the leaf she wore in her sleevecouldn't keep her closer to the trees.And she touched herself behind somedumpsters for a boy. I heard from a friend,through sick and thin, shewore herself too thick with the smellof old clothing.Good word play here with "sick", "thin", and "thick".The taste of her laugh,the sight of her face, was quick tomake a rotten apple. I like this.Feet beneaththe water, alone with no one else.She was an asshole. I can't flower myfingers with the thought of somethingpretty, I like this too. it's only my knuckles that canmake myself pity. So I drowned in theviciousness only such wolves wouldknow just to bend the Bering straight.I love that line. Really awesome, man.

This fuckng mouth, it denigrates herface. The lisp on her ceiling fan, spinsfaster to slur all the air around us,into a chorus of boos. I would change the word "boos".Her body coveredwith nettles, I became my own vertigoas I entered the room;Undressing,cursing,committing my body intothe sting of every wincing pore, and weslept outside ourselves in the gore ofconception.

I think you could have ended this better. With the other writing within this piece, I was really expecting a "wow," spine-tinglingly emotional ending, but I just didn't get it.

The first two lines are kind of overtaken by the rest, but it's relative to the title, so I suppose that's fine. The first stanza's just great, don't taint it with any "June" imagery. The taste of her laugh,the sight of her face, was quick tomake a rotten apple.

Here I'd change it to 'quick to rot an apple' I think it sounds a little more aggressive.

The last stanza is the weakest of three I think, but by no means bad. You could change chorus of boos to howling chorus if you wanted a rhyme, but it might obscure the meaning a bit, just a thought. 'I became my own vertigo' I dont really like, I dont think it would suffer if you removed it completely.

On a body of water, underneatha bridge between her and me.Blushing breath into a startlingbreeze. Forgetting everything wesaid, I never let her tits getto my head. Dripping candles likewet bedroom fucks, we couldn't getover the dream of it all. Her feet over mineon top of mud,in design she was the bitter to my lemonade. To hotto calculate, to simple to appreciatethe grass beside the stomp,a cough below her breast.We held handles, barred fromthe bond, the black to my bleach.I like how she spoke. It reminded meof June.

this is really good, i would never think i would like something like she was the bitter to my lemonade, but it works so well. the dipping candle to mud lines are fantastic. then the way you discribe this women to hot to calculate to simple to appreciate, reminds me of someone i know, i love we held handles and reminded me of june

Then I watched her disappear,for the sterile gauze that sheslept with never kept her safe,the leaf she wore in her sleevecouldn't keep her closer to the trees.And she touched herself behind somedumpsters for a boy. I heard from a friend,through sick and thin, shewore herself too thick with the smellof old clothing. The taste of her laugh,the sight of her face, was quick tomake a rotten apple. Feet beneaththe water, alone with no one else.She was an asshole. I can't flower myfingers with the thought of somethingpretty, it's only my knuckles that canmake myself pity. So I drowned in theviciousness only such wolves wouldknow just to bend the Bering straight.

i like the abrupt change from the first 4 line to the dumpsteri love the use of sick instead of thin. i don't have anything else but its good

This fuckng mouth, it denigrates herface. The lisp on her ceiling fan, spinsfaster to slur all the air around us,into a chorus of boos. Her body coveredwith nettles, I became my own vertigoas I entered the room;Undressing,cursing,committing my body intothe sting of every wincing pore, and weslept outside ourselves in the gore ofconception.

i like the first 4 lines the use of boos seems i bit weak but i can't think of a better word. i like the ending "as i endered... every wincing pore" was great and the last line finishes off the piece well

that was a wonderful fantastic piece im glad i decieded to give it a readi have to come back more often